Lilies
by Hana Noiazei
Summary: It took them twenty years, but Maren and Linnea are finally getting what they've dreamed of.


Under the warm sunlight, her blood runs cold.

Hands trembling, Linnea fidgets with the lace on her collar. Her fingers pick at the intricate flowers expertly crocheted at her neckline, before hands slap them away.

"I spent two weeks making the collar of your dress," Tille scolds, "if you unravel it because of your cold feet, I'll toss you off a cliff."

She continues to shake, feeling as though she's freezing to death despite it being a beautiful summer day, and nearly falls over. In the nick of time, Linnea catches herself before she can fall face-first and snap the heels of her fancy new shoes.

Her bridesmaid grabs her arm, brow creased in worry. "You okay?"

"No, Tille, I'm not okay." Linnea wrings the skirt of her gown nervously, staring out the window where Agata and Sula are setting up the garden. "I'm going to get married to the woman I've loved since I was four years old and I feel like I'm going to throw up and die at the same time."

Tille pats her shoulder reassuringly and smiles sweetly. "You love Maren with every fibre of your being. Now you'll get to finally exchange vows that'll ensure you get to be with her for the rest of time. You'll be fine, dear."

Linnea runs fingers through her hair. "I'll be fine," she repeats, "I'll be fine."  
"There we go." She adjusts the flowers woven in her hair. "You'll do great, Linn. And even if the wedding somehow gets messed up, Maren will love you all the same." Tille looks out the window. "Where's Otilia, by the way?"

"She'll be here in five minutes, I think."

"Oh, thank goodness," Tille says, relieved, "now, you're going to sit down, you're going to stop tearing your dress apart and we're going to wait until Otilia arrives, then we're going to have the ceremony and you'll go to sleep tonight a married woman."

Dropping down on a chair, Linnea bites her lips to keep herself from screaming herself hoarse. Tille, humming casually, sweeps out of Linnea's bedroom and presumably downstairs, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Her engagement ring lies on her bedside table, leaving her hands bare until the afternoon. Down in the garden, Sula is dragging a small row of chairs onto the lush emerald grass, staggering around on her high heels. Agata is calling who Linnea assumes is their officiant, tapping her foot impatiently on the ground. Maren is nowhere to be seen.

The door bangs open and Otilia runs in. "Oh my gosh, Linn, I'm so sorry, I just had a meeting, and Tsveta was being a little shit and - " She composes herself, neatening the ribbons that hold her braids together. "I'm going to go get dressed."

While Otilia ducks behind Linnea's bed and changes into her gown, Linnea gazes out the window again. The small makeshift altar has a vase of lilies on top, the immaculate white petals gleaming softly in the sunlight. The aisle is neatly lined by a soft arctic-blue carpet and the chairs polished to perfection. Linnea reminds herself to thank Sula for all the preparations after the wedding.

"Aaand I'm done!" Adjusting the flowers in her hair, Otilia poses dramatically in her bridesmaid's gown. "You better watch out, Linn, or Maren will want to have me instead of you."

Linnea rolls her eyes. "As if."

The door swings open again, and this time it's Tille's turn to walk in, wringing her hands. "Gata says they're all ready downstairs."

Her heart begins to thump again. "The officiant's down there?"

"Yep."

"The quartet's there too?"

"They're five minutes away."

"Okay, then." Ignoring how her knees almost buckle under her, Linnea gets up and follows her bridesmaids out of the bedroom, nearly tripping over on her way downstairs.

Once she reaches downstairs, Linnea's relieved about her decision to wear a calf-length gown instead of one that drags along the ground, stepping daintily onto the grass and approaching her sister and Agata. Most of the guests, friends from her high school and university days, are seated already, a few of them waving and grinning.

"About time." Sula crosses her arms, smiling despite herself, and smooths out her gown again. "For a moment I thought you'd be getting cold feet."

"Oh, of course not. Linn and Maren have been dating for, what? Ten years? If they back out of this, my career might as well be over."

Her eyes widen when she sees the officiant, neatly dressed and practically overflowing with pride. "Arthur? You're officiating the wedding today?"

Arthur grins, straightening his tie. "Of course! My two closest friends are getting married. There's no way I can just stand by and watch."

Otilia charges to tackle Arthur in a hug, laughing and nearly sending the two of them crashing onto the grass. "Artie, I was wondering where the hell you were! Dang, you're finally putting your job to good use!"

"Yes, yes." He pats Otilia's back and dusts off his tuxedo, looking rather nervous. "Well, I think I'll need to practice my lines again before Maren arrives."

Laughing quietly, Linnea says, "you seem more nervous than me."

"Well, I'm the one officiating the wedding."

"I'm the one getting married." Linnea clasps her hands together and watches as Agata picks up her phone, only mutters a few words in her call and runs off towards the house. "By the way, Tille, is Gata all right? She looks like she's about to have a stroke."

Tille giggles. "She was the one in charge of looking for all the people for this. Gata's probably just pissed that the quartet was supposed to arrive fifteen minutes ago to set up their instruments."

Mere minutes later, four musicians tramp into the backyard, each of them impeccably dressed. They snipe at each other, clearly in a sour mood, but set up quickly enough and begin tuning.

Linnea almost melts in relief.

"See, everything's turning out great!" Tille buttons up her suit jacket and stares at the house, jumping a little. "Aaand it's time."

When she follows Tille's gaze, Linnea sees Maren walking out, along Agata (now looking much calmer) and Myrthe. None of them pay any attention at her, and with a closer look Linnea realises that Maren is squeezing Myrthe's hands, face ghost-white with nerves, and Agata is whispering to her.

"Looks like you're not the only one who's nervous," Otilia whispers devilishly, while Maren and her bridesmaids make it to the altar and greet Arthur.

Remaining silent, Linnea clenches her fists as her fiancee takes her place by the altar, Agata and Myrthe standing behind her and looking far more confident. Tille and Otilia, each squeezing one of her hands reassuringly, lead her to the beginning of the aisle, and she steps delicately onto the pale carpet.

Then the quarter begins to play.

The tune is one Linnea's heard a million times, the familiar melody sweet and nostalgic. Taking a deep breath, she begins making her way down the aisle. She tries desperately to hide her nervous trembling, instead focusing her eyes on the altar.

When Maren catches her gaze, bright and beautiful, all her jitters melt away. Maren's sunny smile, one she's seen for nearly twenty years, has her smile back and raise her head up high.

And she finally reaches the altar.

Casting one last look at her, Arthur clears his throat and recites, "friends and family, we are gathered here on this lovely day to commemorate the union of two women deeply in love. Maren Dansdatter and Linnea Dahl, friends since the age of four and lovers since fourteen, will be brought together by their vows and their ring, and from today onward they, I am sure, will never separate."

He moves on to the address. "Maren, Linnea, before you exchange your vows, understand that they are not to be taken lightly."

Maren nods, and so does Linnea. Reciting her vows again in her head, Linnea takes a stuttering breath and tries to focus on Arthur's words.

"Will you, Linnea," Arthur says, voice unfathomably serious, "cherish Maren as your lawfully wedded wife, and love, protect and tend to her needs through all that happens?"

There is no need for hesitation. "I do," she replies firmly.

He turns to Maren next. "And Maren, do you promise to cherish Linnea as she will you, and offer her your love, trust and utmost respect as you two create your future?"

Her answer comes right after Arthur finishes. "Of course."

"In that case, I now call upon the two of you to exchange your sacred promises before everyone. These promises will shape your life together, and only your words can define how your lives will turn out. Now - " He gestures to Maren, beckoning for Sula to present her wedding ring to her - "Maren, if you may."

She takes a deep breath, before stepping forward and taking Linnea's hands. "With this ring," she proclaims, "I vow to change. Change to better myself, correct myself and help myself for your sake and your sake alone." Maren traces the back of Linnea's hand with her thumb, gentle and adoring. "For decades we have looked out for each other, and for decades more may we continue to love. Whatever pain befalls you, whether by my hand or by others', I will protect you from it. I promise to fight, to laugh and to smile alongside you for the rest of time."

Smiling, Arthur turns to Linnea next. "Your turn, Linnea."

She swallows the lump in her throat, feeling Maren slide her wedding ring on her fourth finger. It fits perfectly, a beautiful silver that gleams in the sunlight. And she vows, voice crystal-clear, "with this ring, I vow to give you all I have. Side by side, we've been together since we knew each other, and I swear to be your guidance, your shield and your ally in all that we go through." She picks up Maren's wedding ring from the cushion Sula is holding, taking Maren's hand and helping her put it on. "Let us put our past away and look to the future - a future, hopefully, spent together. I promise to love you, provide for you and care for you, for as long as we exist."

They lace their hands together, wedding rings clicking together, two bands of silver proclaiming their undying love to the world. Arthur, somehow managing to look even prouder than the two of them combined, announces, "I now declare you two married. And..." his serious façade drops for a moment and he looks down awkwardly. "You two may, er, kiss."

Laughter ripples through the guests.

He doesn't need to say it twice. Placing her other hand on Linnea's waist, Maren draws her in and presses their lips together. Linnea melts into the kiss, eyes fluttering closed and elation flowing through her every vein. She feels as though she is flying.

"Thank you." Arthur claps his hands when the two of them pull away from each other. "And with that, the ceremony has ended. Go in peace, the two of you, and I wish you all the best."

The guests explode into applause, and the music stops as everyone surges forwards to congratulate them. Tille and Otilia engulf her in a suffocating bear hug, laughing. "I told you you'd be fine!" Tille laughs, eyes bright. "Now look, you're happily married and everything's awesome!"

Face burning and heart still beating wildly, Linnea escapes her bridesmaids and makes her way toward Maren. "Hey," she says softly.

Pushing a very hysterical (and probably crying) Allison away, Maren grabs her hand and they run for the corner of the garden, behind an apple tree that must be about to bear fruit.

"So." Maren waves her hand, admiring the simple silver band on her fourth finger. "We did it."

"Yes, we did," Linnea repeats. She feels drunk with overwhelming joy. When Maren takes her hand and presses her lips to the back of it, that feeling, that soaring, amazing feeling, returns, and she can't help smiling.

"I love you so much." Grinning up at Linnea, eyes sparkling with tears she is too joyful to shed, Maren asks, "if we were to go back in time, tell our past selves that we're married, how do you think they'd react?"

She tilts her head, considering the question for a while before replying, "four-year-old me would be disgusted, probably. Fourteen-year-old me would most likely say, 'about time.'."

"Yeah, you're right." Maren laughs. "The me twenty years ago probably wouldn't believe that I married that beautiful, bookish girl I met in kindergarten. The me ten years ago probably wouldn't, either, not when we spent at least five years telling everyone we were 'friends'."

"Friends, huh?" It's Linnea's turn to lift up Maren's hand, ghosting her lips over her ring. "Well, I don't care if you call me your friend, your girlfriend or your wife. As long as I'm with you..." She raises her head and pulls her into a voracious kiss.

"...I'm happy."


End file.
